


Loss of Decorum

by cdra



Series: Kinktober 2019 [2]
Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dragon Heat Cycle, F/M, Female Alpha, Femdom, If Omega Males Basically Have Pussies Then Alpha Females Should Have Dicks, Kinda, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, dragon dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 04:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20868266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cdra/pseuds/cdra
Summary: Ever since the time Scathacha saved his life, Naoise has sometimes gotten a bit... wild. Like a Erune's heat, but not quite the same---well, it's similar enough that Heles knows how to deal with it, at least.[Kinktober 2019: Day 2 - Begging & Knotting]





	Loss of Decorum

**Author's Note:**

> Today's prompts were Begging | Medical play | Knotting | Breathplay/Choking, and my femdom braincell is still turned up to 11 so I wrote this.
> 
> If this wasn't clear from the tags: it's Heles knots Naoise, the fic. She has a dick because she's an alpha and alpha females should totally have dicks when they're in heat, because I said so and also it's hot.

Naoise gets like this sometimes, now—ever since the last time he nearly got himself killed, and Scathacha explained to her in quiet what  _ saving _ him entailed, he’s gotten a bit feral now and again. Long, blond hair disheveled, hanging around his head in untidy locks, blue eyes lit up with a reptilian gleam—Heles can’t help but find her knight lovely, even when he’s losing himself in a haze and rolling his hips atop her own, but she thinks that may be her own oncoming heat-cycle speaking.

“Princess Heles,” he rasps lowly, and the rough tone of it sends a shiver up her spine. He wants to control himself, but it’s so  _ hard  _ when his head feels like it’s melting and his veins are on fire; it’s already too late, with his claws digging at her shoulders as he holds her against the floor. “F-forgive me, Princess, I…” Naoise’s eyes are lidded, his head tilted back; his jaw hangs slack as he fights merely to breathe steadily. “It’s too...”

A soft shushing sound falls from the princess’s lips as she curls her fingers around his wrist. “We’ve been over this before, Naoise: it’s quite alright.” Despite the heat in her own voice, Heles keeps her poise where Naoise is falling apart ungracefully. “If you have needs, then it simply won’t do to leave them unfulfilled.” If it helps bring him back to himself—she’d do most anything for that, for him, yes, but considering she enjoys this, there’s no real question of it in her mind.

But, he hesitates, ever loyal, ever aware of his station even when she’s no longer a princess and he’s beholden to no vows. “I can’t, I… mustn’t...” Naoise’s voice is slurred as he ruts against her thigh; it’s already obvious how hard he is. “ _ Need _ you…” It’s not what he meant to say; he wants to remain reluctant, politely distant as he had when they were children. Back then, he didn’t understand the meaning of an Erune’s heat, and Elisheba kept them apart from him when the royals were so afflicted. Even once he learned, a bit older, he still couldn’t have understood how it  _ felt, _ not before these episodes began.

Naoise moans as he looks up toward nothing-in-particular on the ceiling; Heles’s hand on his hip startles him back into looking at her. A flicker of clarity in glazed-over eyes—he’s mortified, a pink flush finding his cheeks for more reasons than one, but Heles remains as calm as she can manage. “Don’t torture yourself,” she reprimands him as she blindly undoes his belt, “What you need, I am willing to give.” His hands tense against her shoulders before absently slipping down toward her waist; his hips rock forward in an unconscious effort to meet her hands.

There’s a charm to seeing Naoise fall apart, of all people; Heles sighs into a smile as she undoes his fly and eases his underwear out of the way. His cock, hot and hard and not-all-human, strains to meet her fingertips, eager where Naoise himself wishes he wasn’t. “Princess, please,” he keens, the cool of the air against his erection almost painfully apparent; he paws at the top of her dress near-thoughtlessly, his thoughts a bit too fuzzy to remember how to undo the complex article right away.

Heles wonders, as she strips her knight and pulls up her own clothing to reveal how her stiffening length stretches at her panties, if she can get him to stop calling her “Princess” before all’s said and done.

At the least, Naoise is cognizant enough of her intentions to oblige her—he shifts to help her remove his pants, though they end up stuck around one ankle and he doesn’t have the mind to care before he’s pressing against her again. Their heats aren’t the same but he can still smell it on her, somehow, the spice of a female alpha, and it scrambles up his brain and leaves him whining at even the slightest hint of friction when his cock meets her thigh. “Princess, I—” he whimpers again, scrambling for control of himself even as he claws at her underwear; she cuts him off by wrapping a hand around his cock, and he melts easily for her.

“Patience, Naoise,” Heles breathes, removing her smallclothes on her own as she guides him up onto her hips; her own cock twitches to full attention, showing a shape more curved and smoother than Naoise’s ridged one. “This is what you want, yes?” Her eyelids flutter as she lightly strokes her cock, just enough to be indicative, enticing.

Naoise’s palms clench into the rumpled fabric of her dress. “ _ Please _ ,” he manages, his throat hot and dry; he squirms and shifts downward, gasps when Heles’s cock nudges at the sensitive skin beneath his balls and slips against the cleft of his ass. “He— P-Princess Heles,  _ please _ —”

She reaches up to undo the clasp around her neck; black fabric falls, revealing the tops of her full, flushed breasts. “Your honesty is so charming,” Heles purrs as her fingers find his entrance; the touch makes him stiffen and shudder. “Will you prepare yourself for me, Naoise?” He pants, mouth hanging open, and looks down at her with dark, distracted eyes—but he does as she says, slipping a hand between his legs to impatiently press a finger inside of himself. The pressure burns, but it’s a salve compared to the heat that consumes him, and he gives a throaty keening sound.

He cuts quite the image, like this: barely disrobed, his hairline glistening with sweat, blond hair flowing wild around his form as he fingers himself astride her. Naoise’s cock twitches shamelessly, desperately, and he can’t contain the low whines that spill from his tongue. Heles takes it all in as she strokes her cock and fondles her breast languidly; his impatience is obvious, along with his recklessness, in how he spares himself no time to adjust before he’s filling himself with three fingers and  _ still  _ whimpering Heles’s name in heated pleas.

“Heles, I can’t, I want it, please—” his decorum finally breaks amid breathless begging and she smiles warmly for it; her hands shift to steady his hips.

“Always so reckless,” she sighs, but she tugs him into the proper position. “Well, I don’t think you’ll hurt yourself as is, so I suppose I’ll indulge you.”

Naoise moans his thanks sloppily as he lowers himself onto her length; there’s certainly a stretch, but it’s more electricity than fire and he simply can’t bring himself to go slowly when there’s such a raging itch deep within him, so he takes her in one harsh slam of his hips and cries out shamefully loud for it. Her nails press into his bare hips and she hisses quietly at the sudden tightness; Naoise really can be too much, sometimes.

His pace is urgent, yet disorganized; he lifts his hips slowly only to bring them down quickly and twist his hips to better enjoy the filling sensation. Heles levels her breathing and lets him set his needy rhythm; her eyes are blown with heat as she watches him paint an image of such carnal and animalistic desire that it hardly seems to belong on a human.

“More, ah—” he begs nonsensically, “please, Heles, so good—” There’s a bit of saliva dripping from his lips, and she wishes he were a bit less preoccupied so she could kiss it away. But, she’s delayed him enough, she thinks, but only after she tries to sit up only to find his grip on her waist far too heavy and tight to allow any real movement.

As he acclimates properly to her girth, he moves faster yet, insistently fucking himself onto her so that her cock hits him at just the right angle; his voice falls wanton and unrestrained, and Heles is content to simply enjoy the heat of him around her. He chases his own release desperately but she’s not so far behind, considering his relentless pace. “Naoise,” she breathes softly, as if awed; he barely seems to hear amid his own half-babbled panting.

Heles grits her teeth and hisses when the pressure suddenly mounts—Naoise all but squeaks as the base of her cock grows thicker, stretching him further still. He takes her in fully, rocks his hips shallowly as her knot swells up within him. “Heles, you’re—so big, it’s—” As he whines his nails clamber against her skin, pulling at silk and leaving red marks where they meet her torso. The sheer fullness is enough to send him over the edge with a sharp cry, white spurting in ropes onto her stomach and the dress still covering her waist; she’s already following suit, gripping his thighs desperately enough to leave bruises as she fills him with her release in turn.

They stay like that, for a moment, with Naoise in a fucked-out daze atop her, Heles’s knot still locked within him as she pants. The moment passes, in part, and he slumps down onto her chest as he breathes raggedly, like he’d forgotten to truly do so for some untold amount of time in that heat-haze.

Before he opens his mouth to say something foolish or apologetic, Heles simply reaches up to stroke his hair and hums softly; perhaps, they both think in their own ways, it’s fine to simply bask in the lingering warmth for a moment longer.

**Author's Note:**

> tomorrow might be one of the only days I hit a 4/4 bingo on this kinktober nonsense ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


End file.
